Talk About A Good Time
by SnarkyTheClown
Summary: A brief interlude of life after the war. Short encounter between HGSS. A bit on the dark-ish side...with a bizarre sort of happy ending.
1. 1

Who knows if this is ready to post or good enough to post, but it's written so here it is. Like all my work it's not intended to be an earth-shattering literary piece. Characters aren't mine, suing me would only give you a headache.

Ah, yes, and just in case anyone thinks: wow, her stuff's really gone downhill, I'll state for the record that a) I kinda liked this one, and b) there's other stuff in the works, this was just a random bit that spewed itself onto the screen.

--Aimes

* * *

"You've changed," he observed mildly, watching her.

"Doesn't everything?" she tossed back without looking up. "You're here for a reason. Say your bit then get out." She polished the gleaming metal carefully before sliding it silently into a leather sheath.

"Bitterness isn't a good look on you, Miss Granger." He handed her the brush she needed as he spoke.

"Pretty rich, coming from you," she pointed out as she reassembled the cleaned gun and set it on the table. "But it's not bitterness, it's time constraints. Some of us work for a living, you know, Professor."

He tightened the holster on her shoulder and she slid the gun in. "More's the pity."

"Did you have a reason to be here?" She faced him, eyes neutral.

Snape took in the sight of her with an appreciative half smile. A wet dream. Black boots, dark flared jeans sitting so low on her hips that she couldn't be wearing underwear, studded black leather belt with two knife sheaths. An inch of two of skin showed on her midriff and her navel piercing flashed at him. Her nails were painted cherry red to match her dyed hair, and her wrists were encased by leather cuffs decorated by slim throwing knives. Her short sleeved black shirt was low cut, and her back was crisscrossed by a shoulder holster designed for two guns. A wet dream indeed. She picked up her leather jacket and raised an eyebrow.

"Who do you want dead?"

"Ronald Weasley." He watched her carefully but she didn't even blink.

"Why?"

"Is that a question you typically ask your clients?" he challenged.

"I don't have a standard questionnaire. Why?" she replied, undeterred.

"He's become a liability to us. Too brash, too loud, too easily noticed. He besmirches the good name of the Order of the Phoenix. After all, now that Voldemort is gone," he shrugged, "image is everything." A sardonic smile lingered on his face.

"So kick him out." She pulled on the jacket. "Or kill him yourself."

"Can't kick him out of an Order his parents helped found and if he dies I'm the obvious suspect. Better for it not to have been me."

Hermione circled him, observing. Still thin, almost to the point of gauntness, all lean muscle and bone. Hair still longish, though a bit less straggly looking, perhaps because he no longer spent so much time around potions. The power still clung to him like cologne, the power that had so intimidated others even as a child that he had become an outcast. She caught his gaze and watched the predatory intelligence animate his eyes.

"I'm not cheap."

"We can pay."

"We? Dumbledore still has you doing his dirty work, then. Why?"

"Why what?" His eyes narrowed.

"Why do you do it? And don't feed me any shit about redemption. I'm not a fool."

He considered a moment before answering, and surprised himself with his own honesty. "Because it amuses me. The old fool thinks he's the greatest wizard of our time and that he embodies the side of the light."

She smiled. "Did he request me specifically?"

"He doesn't know you're alive." He watched her boost herself up onto the table and cross her legs contemplatively. "Although I suspect a good part of him wanting Weasley out of the way is fear. Fear that the foolish boy's guilt will motivate him to start saying things about Dumbledore's tactics during the war."

"And what if he's an accidental victim of the crossfire?" Snape leaned against a wall, facing her.

"I'd find another way to amuse myself."

"They all think I'm dead? An unfortunate casualty of the war?"

"Yes."

"Seven million pounds sterling."

"Five million," he countered. "And feel free to look them in the eyes when you kill them. The shock will be enjoyable, I'm sure."

"I thought I was killing Weasley 'for the cause,'" she teased. "Six and a half."

"Actually, you're killing him because I'm bloody bored of him…and because I'm paying you quite handsomely. I wonder if Dumbledore regrets abandoning you to Lucius' tender ministrations?" He smiled darkly. "Five and a half."

"Not nearly as much as he'd regret letting you darken his doorway if he knew you'd helped me get out. What an idiot. He should've known it would break Harry if he knew I was being tortured and murdered and nothing was being done. But then I wonder who told Harry?" she gave him an innocently inquiring look laced with amusement.

"A little bird, I'm sure. In any case at least Potter got rid of Voldemort. Rather idiotic of him to die in the process, however." He watched her. "Counter offer?"

"Too bad he didn't rid us of Dumbledore. Counter offer…six." She gave him long, interested look. "And you. I must admit, I've always wondered if you're as good in bed as I imagine you'd be."

"Six and I get to fuck you." He mock pondered it. "I think I'll take it."

She hopped off the table. "When do you want Weasley dead?"

"As soon as you can manage it," he replied, pushing off the wall and towering over her. "I'll wire the money into your account immediately."

"Done," she said, shrugging. She turned to go and he caught her arm.

"And when do we complete this transaction?"

"As soon as the job's done. I'd hate to have any distractions while we're 'completing the transaction,'" she noted wryly.

He watched her leave, enjoying the view of her ass.

"Try not to wear yourself out while I'm gone," she called back without turning. He smiled in bemusement. Saving her from Malfoy had been the best decision of his life. Talk about a good time.


	2. 2

Alright…June was my super-quick reviewer. Thank you for your support! As to why she charged him so much, there are two reasons: first, in the end she wants him to know that she's not killing Weasley and Dumbledore for revenge or anything else—it's a business transaction. Second, she knows that Dumbledore's financing it…and she wanted to take him for all he was worth.  
Hand3, thanks for reading. As for HG/SS while she's still in school…it's really messy to work around that, but you'll like a (more cheerful) story I have in the works…

Lil, I posted it cuz otherwise it was just taking hard drive space. Rhiannon—here's a bit more for you! Snape's Witch, I'm glad _someone_ loves it! Droxy—yeah, Hermione's OOC, which is why I conveniently set it in the future, outside of the context of the books that have been written. That way I could cop out and say that she's changed! Nore—so glad you like it!

I'm very sad that I got rather a rather ridiculous angry review. Persom: Am I a sick freak because my ideas don't mesh with yours? I'm so sorry for trying to explore different possibilities. I shall do my best to stay within cookie cutter format in the future. ::snort::

A quick word about this short series of vignettes: I wrote it as taking place after the war and I was intrigued by the moral ambiguities. I mean, the 'right side' won, but every side commits atrocities that are later excused as necessary evils. I wanted to examine how a person changes when they realize that someone they've idolized is not what they seemed…especially in the context of a wartime environment. I also wanted to explore the dynamic of two people who have always existed in a gray area.  
Please note: I don't mean to portray Dumbledore as evil—he's not. He simply let his fear make decisions for him and deluded himself into thinking they were right.

I warn that this and the next chapter do contain graphic sexuality.

--Aimes

* * *

She let out a long sigh as she shifted against him. He smiled in satisfaction, fingers tangled in her hair, her body sprawled half atop his. Talk about a good time.

She looked up at him, eyes smoky and sated. "Why?" she asked huskily.

His smile became wry. This was becoming their routine. "Why what, exactly?" Her eyes glittered slightly in the half light.

"Why did you save me from Malfoy? Because it…amused you?" He could hear the dark laughter in her voice as she asked. She had no illusions of romance or sweetness. He watched her for a moment, running his fingers through her hair and stroking her face. She turned to kiss his hand and suck on his finger, eliciting a deep growl from him.

"Would it bother you if that were why?" he asked curiously.

"No. Free is free no matter what the reason," she said, cocking her head slightly. "I just wanted to know." She settled her chin on his chest and watched him.

"I didn't want you to die," he replied mildly, honestly. "And I didn't want him to break you. Dumbledore was obscenely stupid to throw you to the wolves as a sacrifice. But then, he was frightened of you, I suppose," he said this partly to himself. He had a good idea that the reason Dumbledore had let Malfoy take Hermione and had done nothing was because the man was just a tiny bit unnerved by the raw power within her. Mixed with her impressive intellect, she was a force to be reckoned with.

"That's why he tried to mind fuck you into thinking he was your salvation," she said thoughtfully. "And why he let Tom Riddle turn into a raving megalomaniacal madman when he probably could have stopped it early on. He was afraid. Better to let the world at large get rid of us or break us than to sully his lily white hands. Wonder if Harry realized it at the end." She trailed her hand down his arm and played with his fingers idly. "Destructive old bastard, wasn't he?"

"You've destroyed a few things yourself," he pointed out. "Was it satisfying?" She drew herself up on her knees so she was straddling him and placed her hands on his shoulders then leaned over to kiss him openmouthed, sucking on his tongue and groaning when his hands moved to her hips.

"Completely," she whispered wickedly, sucking on his ear.

He laughed, the sound rich and true, vibrating through her. "That's not what I meant, and you know it," he admonished. She laughed now, the sound high and sweet.

"I know," she said, teasingly contrite. Her face sobered slightly. "It was glorious," she said in a low, hypnotic voice. "Dumbledore took one look at me and knew he was dead. He tried some pathetic spiel about how he couldn't risk the order to save me, but he knew I wasn't buying it. I looked him in the eye when I killed him. Unfortunate casualty of war. Before he died, I told him that it wasn't just for me. It was for all the truly powerful witches and wizards he'd ruined in his fear of their power. For Tom Riddle, for Harry Potter, for you, and for Draco Malfoy. No one can begin to imagine the tortures Draco endured before dying at the hands of his father. That's why I killed Lucius, eventually. For Draco, who was willing to turn his back on everything he'd ever been raised to believe knowing that the other side would never take him and that his father would destroy him." She closed her eyes and smiled as she remembered her recent job. "Gods it felt good to kill the hypocritical old bastard. Love is the answer, indeed. And in the end, he actually believed in himself as the salvation of wizarding kind. It felt damn good to finish him." She snorted before opening her eyes and gazing down at him lustfully. "Almost as good as completing our transaction."

He laughed again as he ran his hands up her sides, lingering on her breasts, caressing them. "And Weasley?"

"I just shot him. He wasn't even worth the time it would have taken to rub it in. He fancied himself in love with me once, you know," she said mildly. "But when it came down to being me or him we all know which one of us ended up in Malfoy's clutches. He looked surprised when he saw me and almost relieved when he saw the gun. He was a foolish boy who made foolish decisions, in the end, and regretted them. I bet the guilt was just eating him inside," she said dryly. She leaned close to his ear again. "A lot like you were eating me a few hours ago."

"Is that a request for a repeat performance?" he queried, gazing up at her. His hair fanned out across the pillow and he looked relaxed and almost happy teasing her.

"I'll return the favor," she promised with a seductive smile. He flipped her onto her back and began licking and sucking his way down her body.

"I like having you at my mercy," he revealed, eyes burning. "I like having such a powerful witch writhing beneath me and screaming my name." He had reached her thighs and nipped at them gently. "Giving you pleasure is the most arousing thing I've ever done." She moaned and he laughed, abandoning himself to his task with enthusiasm. He teased her with his tongue and lips and her hips bucked against him. Within moments he had brought her to the edge and she came, screaming his name raggedly. She went limp, hands in his hair, eyes half closed. He kissed her thighs once more before moving beside her, pulling her into his arms. He kissed her lips and she tasted herself on him.

"Delicious," he whispered in her ear. She could feel his erection pressing against her and she smiled, sliding a hand down his body.

"I must admit, this is one of the better deals I've made," she said with a grin. "You're better than I ever dreamed."

He lowered himself over her, amusement and lust glowing in his black eyes. "Indeed," he growled as he claimed her mouth and thrust into her heat.


	3. 3

So, who knew this would be a happy ending sort of thing? It just sort of wrote itself that way. Graphic sexuality ahead, this is your second warning. I still don't own anything (though if anyone's wondering, diamonds are good).  
ArtemisMoonClaw was my superquick reviewer last chapter. I'll assume that you mean interesting in a good 'you've broken out of your writing box' way.  
Hand3, the other story ever grows and if I weren't such a nitpicker who goes back and tweaks things till the last second, I'd start posting it. I'm glad you reviewed although I sense you're not as fond of this side of my writing…your loyalty is appreciated as is your honesty. This fic ends up with a bit more twisted of a world than if Voldemort had won (at least the way I would have ended up writing it) because in this everyone is a victim of their own destructive choices and even I prefer to think of Ron, Harry, and Hermione as holding on to their loyalty to one another. Of course in the end, it was self-preservation that did Ron in, not loyalty…he was always loyal to her. That's why the guilt struck him so hard.  
Snape's Witch: I have to say, you're right inasmuch as I doubt that JKR's Hermione will turn out anything like this! But as long as nothing's set in published stone, I can manipulate her future a bit…thank you for your insights, by the way, I really do appreciate them!  
Innogen: well that damn plot has already built an entire substructure for the backstory of this fic, thanks to you! But nothing will be written till I can at least claim to be three-quarters done with the other two larger fics I'm working on. After that…well, who knows. If I manage to write it, you'll be the first to know.  
Thank you to everyone who bore with me on a piece that is quite different from the lighthearted bits I usually write. I understand completely that if you're a fan of my usual stuff, you may not like this fic at all, and I take no offense.  
I appreciate any and all reviews, although if you're going to be pissy, at least try to do it with proper grammar and spelling. Much easier to catch the angry nuances. Nice reviews need have no formatting…they make me insanely happy any which way.  
June: here's your ending, my dear. I hope you like it!

--Aimes

erm, if anyone really likes it, I might be re-posting it with a bit more…detail (if you know what I mean) on another site. Contact me if you care.

* * *

She stalked into his office silently and straddled his chair. Her legs slid on either side of him to grip him and she leaned back to look at him, resting her elbows on the desk behind her.

"I was offered a contract on you today," she said in a sultry voice.

"Did you take it?" he asked as his hands rubbed circles on her thighs before settling on her hips.

"It was a tough decision," she pouted. "Eleven million pounds versus the best lover I've ever had."

"And what did you decide?" He pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it in the corner, leaning forward to suck on the base of her neck. She groaned deeply.

"I'm rich enough," she gasped. "And three years later, I'm still not bored with you." He had removed her bra and was sucking on her right breast. "I picked you," she moaned. "Thank the gods."

"And who offered you the contract?" Every puff of breath hardened her nipple a bit more.

"Doesn't matter," she replied leaning forward and capturing his face in her hands. "I killed him. If I'd let him live," she shrugged and bent to kiss his nose. "He might have gone to someone else."

He opened his eyes and looked up at her. The look in his eyes was unrecognizable and confusing. He kissed her on the lips, nipping on her bottom lip. Then he asked The Question: "Do you love me?" he hissed, sucking on her earlobe.

She stiffened, hands gripping his shoulders convulsively, and her eyes widened.

"Do you love me?" he whispered again, nibbling on her neck.

"You're mine," she murmured, evasively. "No one is allowed to kill you or hurt you but me. And I'll only do that if you betray me. So I killed him."

"I'm yours," he agreed. "But you didn't answer my question," he pushed, lifting her onto his desk. He moved back in his chair, unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans and tugging them off her hips, sliding them down her long, long legs. He buried his face between her thighs and inhaled. "Do you love me?"

He placed a gentle kiss on her before removing her panties and letting her slide back into her original position. Her wetness smeared on his trousers as she gripped his erection between her legs. "I don't know," she said raggedly, a spike of panic in her tone. "I don't know what love is. I don't know if I'm capable of loving."

He held her still and looked her in the eyes. "You want me." His fingers found her centre and began to stroke.

"Yes," she growled.

"You need me." His pace increased.

"Yes." Her fingers dug into his shoulders as her body began to tighten.

"You could spend forever with me." She came hard, crying out.

"Yes!"

He stood, pushing her onto her back on his desk and covering her with his body. He held her to him and brushed a kiss on her lips. "Do you love me?"

"Yes." Tears were streaming down her face and she closed her eyes tightly.

He leaned close to her ear and whispered, barely audible: "Marry me." He licked away her tears.

Her eyes shot open and she gasped. He freed his erection and began to push into her.

"I love you," he murmured. "Marry me." His kisses rained onto her face.

"I…" she faltered and let out a guttural moan as he thrust. She locked her legs around him and they sped up, moving rhythmically, familiarly. For a moment there was silence but for their moans and gasps. Hermione came first, her muscles rippling, gripping him.

"Severus," she screamed.

"Hermione," he growled in response, releasing within her.

They rested in one another's arms for a moment, boneless and sated, before Snape stood, straightened his clothes, and cast a cleansing spell on himself. Hermione sat up in confusion crossing her legs and looking down on him from her position on his desk. Snape pulled something out of a drawer and stood before her for a moment.

"Severus?" she asked curiously.

He dropped to one knee and took her hand, looking up at her.

"Hermione Jane Granger, will you marry me?" His face grew shuttered as the silence gaped, and he braced himself for rejection. He watched her brown eyes, wide and scared, and suddenly knew how to reassure her.

Hermione watched him open the box and slide the beautiful diamond solitaire onto her finger. He looked up at her and waited.

"I…you're serious," she whispered, almost to herself. She looked from the ring to his face disbelievingly before breaking into a radiant smile. "Yes. Yes, of course I'll marry you." She laughed and pulled him into her arms. He held her tightly and kissed the top of her head.

"Who asked you to kill me?" he teased, as he ran his fingers lightly down her spine. She shivered and snuggled against him.

"Colin Creevey," she replied. "Apparently you gave him detention one too many times, and seeing you as Headmaster pushed him over the edge."

He looked down at her, incredulous, and they began to laugh. When they had calmed he brushed her hair out of her face and kissed her softly, chastely on the lips.

"You're mine forever, Hermione."

"Yes," she agreed with a beautiful smile. "Of course," she said, eyes sparkling, "I was yours with or without the ring."

"Naturally," he responded, grinning for the first time in years. "It just happens to look really lovely on you."

"Exactly," she laughed, tugging on his neck and kissing him once more.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too."


End file.
